


A Worthless Color

by DippertheShipper



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Arena Stickball, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, dammek is a good moirail actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DippertheShipper/pseuds/DippertheShipper
Summary: A pale xefmek commission I did for a commissioner who wishes to remain anonymous. I had tons of fun doing it! Commissions are still open, so if you want something too, email me at enthusiasticbiologist@gmail.com.





	A Worthless Color

Xefros Tritoh dragged himself slowly to the hive of his moirail, a smile and a quart of blood spread across his face.

Shakily, he lifted his good arm to ring the Tertrach’s doorbell. What a relief that his dominant hand hadn’t been mauled!

Xefros heard a faint buzzing noise, two clicks, and the sound of metal scraping on metal.

“Who’s there?”

“H-Hey! It’s me, Xefros!”

“Password?”

“Uh…” Xefros felt his heart sink. “Sorry, I don’t remember... Don’t worry, I’ll leave!”

A sigh rattled through the steel door. “Yeah, it’s you. Come on in, Xef.”

Stumbling over the airlock-like door, Xefros felt his bad arm hitch on the metal teeth, shredding more skin. He almost winced, but remembered at the last second that he shouldn’t show weakness around the Tetrarch.

 _Whew! That was a close one!_ He thought. Just to be safe, he put on an even bigger smile.

“So, what’s up, Xefros?” Dammek said, walking to the kitchen to grab a can of soda.

“Oh, nothing really,” Xefros replied, taking advantage of his turned back to check on his arm, “We won a match in arena stickball today.”

“Cool. So, I was thinking- shit!”

Upon seeing Xefros’ arm, Dammek dropped his soda, spilling it all over his already grimy floor.

“What the hell happened to your arm?”

“I’m so sorry, Dammek!” Xefros pleaded. “Please, let me get that!” He stooped down to try and mop up the spilled soda, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm when the soda splashed into his open wounds.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“I’m just fixing my mess!” Xefros explained. “I want to be more of a help to the revolution, I really do! I wish you would let me clean your hive more. If I have to clean things, I’d rather do it for you.”

“Wh-No!” Dammek stuttered. “Jegus man, look at your arm! Stop cleaning and go take care of it or something.”

“Sorry!!!” Stumbling upwards, Xefros kept his eyes trained on his bloodstained cleats. “Should I go home?”

“I- You need to fix your arm, dude. Fucking hell, what happened?”

Xefros let out a small whimper as Dammek examined his arm. “The other team’s wrangler got me. But that didn’t stop me from scoring and winning the game!” He tried to smile. “See? Everything’s okay, Dammek!”

The lanky bronzeblood grew more and more anxious as he examined Xefros’ arm, which was still dripping red blood all over the cement floor.

 _A worthless color_ , Xefros thought. _So it’s fine if I lose some._

“Okay, this _cannot_ wait. I’m gonna grab some medical supplies to fix you up. Stay right here. And for the love of Gly’bglob, you have got to stop nearly killing yourself in arena stickball.” Dammek said.

“I’m- Oh. He’s gone.”

Xefros bounced on his feet a bit waiting for Dammek. That is, until he started to feel so dizzy that he nearly fell over mid-bounce. He couldn’t help the bouncing, though. Standing perfectly still felt so unnatural for him. Unfortunately, that was going to be pretty much all of his future job. Jeez. Even for a rustblood, he was useless.

A loud clanging noise bounced of the walls of the bunker-like hive, startling Xefros out of his thoughts. He turned around to see Dammek clambering down his pile of guns with a scruffy-looking medkit.

“You didn’t sit down?” he asked.

“S-Sorry Tetrarch Dammek! I’ll get right on that!” Xefros shoved himself down onto the cinder blocks Dammek used as tables so hard that he bruised himself in the ass. Great. The one place he hadn’t hurt during stickball.

“You don’t have to say sorry for everything, you know.” Dammek commented, opening up the medkit. “Being unapologetically yourself is a form of rebellion.”

“Sorry, Dammek! You always have such great advice. Oh, sorry! Wait-”

Dammek sighed. “It’s fine,” he said. “I just wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

“Why? This way I can help my team the most, so I’m useful!” Xefros questioned.

“You have value beyond that! Why can’t you see that?”

Leaning back on the table, Xefros put the pieces together in his mind.

“I see!” he said. “You want me in top shape for the revolution!”

“No, man, it’s not that.” Dammek said. “Now let me look at your arm, would you?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure.”

Xefros leaned forward a bit and rested his injured arm on his knee, baring his wound for Dammek to examine. Dropping to one knee, he diligently began cleaning the cuts and wiping away the blood and grime Xefros had accumulated in stickball.

“I want you to take better care of yourself because I’m your damn moirail,” Dammek said without looking up from his work. “And you’re my moirail.”

Wincing at both the peroxide and the expectations, Xefros pulled back. “But you do so much for me, Dammek, and I just want give something back.” He looked out the window at the city lights flickering in the distance. “Heh. Problem is, I’m pretty much useless!”

Dammek’s shades cast a shadow over his face as dark as his expression. “I wish you’d stop listening to that fish-bitch’s propaganda. It’s all fucking bullshit meant to keep the lower castes complacent by brainwashing us into thinking this is the life we deserve.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’ about it, Xef.” Dammek said, tossing the dirty peroxide rag over his shoulder. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you think.”

“I know,” he said, looking away bashfully. “I just wish I could be strong enough to help the rebellion better.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I want you to be ready for the rebellion, but it’s not just about that. We’re rebelling because the way lowbloods are treated here is messed up. We all are worth so much more than those highbloods say, and that includes you.”

“I dunno, Dammek…” Xefros said.

“Ugh. Just stop hurting yourself so much, okay?” he replied.

“O-Okay.”

Dammek pulled out some more disinfectant and a needle and medical thread from the medkit. Xefros eyed the needle nervously, tensing up at the thought of stitches.

“What?” Dammek eyed him over the rim of his shades. “Are you going to bend it or not?”

The pair of moirails bust out laughing at the mere prospect.

The Tetrarch’s face fell into a sullen and serious look again as he pulled out a length of string and severed it from the spool with his teeth. With a firm and assured motion, he yanked the string through the eye of the needle and decisively tied it shut. He put the needle to skin, but hesitated at the last second.

“This is probably going to hurt.” Dammek said. “I just want you to be ready for it, okay?”

Xefros nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. It did, in fact, hurt, but he grit his teeth and tried to act brave for Dammek. He tasted the salty tang of his tears before he even realized he was crying. He hated it. He hated it! Why couldn’t he tough out just a little bit of pain?

“Hey- Hey buddy!” Dammek said, giving Xefros a few firm pats. “I’m done. See?”

Xefros looked down at his arm, which was now sewn back together with amber thread.  It was admittedly kind of nice to not have to worry about something falling into his arm and giving him an infection, or bleeding out on the street, even if the stitches hurt like hell.

“Thanks, Dammek.” Xefros said, giving him a weak smile.

“Mmm. I’m not done yet. Hold on.” Dammek pulled out a tube of thick, gel-like disinfectant, a small package, and a roll of medical gauze.

Taking his arm gently, Dammek spread the disinfectant along the stitches with a gentleness and care he hid away most of the time. Xefros began to relax his body, comforted by Dammek’s attention. It was soothing rarity on Alternia to have someone care about you that way, for them to take you, flaws and all, and help you get better.

Dammek ripped open the packet of sterilized cloth and nested it just outside the crook of the forearm, right over where the wound was. Pulling out a length of gauze, he wrapped over the cloth to keep it in place. The bandages were firm, almost to the point of constriction, but not painful, just like the Tetrarch himself.

 

 

Finally, Dammek pulled away, satisfied with his handiwork.

“Thank you so much, Dammek, really, I didn’t-”

Xefros was cut off by Dammek crashing into him for a hug. It caught him off guard, but he settled into the warm feeling of being ensconced by his moirail. The heavy scent of gun grease perpetually caught in the folds of Dammek’s hoodie reassured him, deeply metallic yet somehow sweet.

“Don’t scare me like that, Xef.” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”  
Xefros hugged his scrawny friend even tighter with his good arm. “I dunno what a useless rustblood like me did to deserve a guy like you.”

“Fuck that noise.” Dammek said. “I don’t know how I ever wound up with you as a moirail.”

“I just-” Xefros swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why do you care about me so much?”

“Because you’re you, man.” Dammek replied, hugging him tighter. “Because you’re you.”


End file.
